


Regrets

by kakashianon



Category: Naruto
Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Young Kakashi, sad angsty mini kakashi basically
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-17
Updated: 2016-07-17
Packaged: 2018-07-24 16:19:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 762
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7514924
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kakashianon/pseuds/kakashianon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He never mentioned it again, and his sensei never asked about it, but when Kakashi took him to the memorial stone a week later and introduced him to his father, he thought his sensei understood.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Regrets

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first time I've ever written anything, so in all honesty, it's not that good. But I'd appreciate any and all reviews/comments ^~^
> 
>  
> 
> I'm not sure if I need to put a disclaimer, but just in case:
> 
> Disclaimer: All the characters in the story belong to Masashi Kishimoto.

Sometimes, he remembers how he used to resent his father. How he had hated him, and shunned him even in his own home. He’d thought, how dare his father _purposely throw a mission?_ Every shinobi knew that the mission always came first, no matter what. Even he’d known that at the early age of 5. He’d thought of his father as an embarrassment, to both Kakashi and the village. And when he had come home to find his father with a tanto pierced through his stomach, alone and dead in a room where they had once sparred and laughed together, he hadn’t shed a tear. The village had not mourned his father’s death, and neither had he.

But then he’d met Minato- sensei a year later. Minato-sensei, who pat him on the head and smiled at him and praised him. Minato-sensei, who laughed at his own (bad) jokes and took Kakashi out for lunch and dealt with his awkwardness with ease. Minato-sensei, who reminded Kakashi so much of his own father before he had taken his final mission that had ruined everything, he thought he would scream, or go crazy, or both. Every time Minato had smiled, Kakashi had felt a piece of himself die.

In the end, he had just broken down silently, and Minato had gently embraced him and held him until he had stopped crying, quiet sobs racking his small body. He had been too numb to even feel embarrassed. He never mentioned it again, and his sensei never asked about it, but when Kakashi took him to the memorial stone a week later and introduced him to his father, he thought his sensei understood.

They had stood like that for hours, alone, beneath a gray sky, Minato’s hand laid softly on Kakashi’s head, as the young boy had tried to figure out how to say sorry. He wanted to say _sorry for leaving you when you needed me most._ He wanted to say _I never hated you, I was just scared._ He wanted to beg for forgiveness and tell him _sorry, sorry, sorry,_ and _I love you_ over and over again until the heaviness choking him could drown him alive and take him to where his father was, -hopefully- waiting for him. He traced the name on the stone thousands of times with his eyes, trying to think of what to say, opening and closing his mouth dozens of times.

His throat had felt dry, his tongue like a piece of sandpaper grinding up against the roof of his mouth, and the rest of his body had taken on an oddly calm numbness that spread from his heart all the way to the tips of his tiny toes. He had opened his mouth to say sorry, because all the thoughts in his head had mashed up into a giant ball and the only mantra pounding in his head that he’d been able to make out was that single word. Yet, all he had managed to get out was a single, low-pitched, anguished moan that echoed through the empty field. Beside him, Minato had taken one look at Kakashi, before looking back at the memorial stone and had opened his mouth and just talked. He talked about the village and the children and the flowers beginning to bloom. He told Kakashi’s father about how wonderful he thought Kakashi was, and how much he had grown. He talked about Kakashi’s puppies and how rapidly they were growing and how they got fur all over his couch whenever he invited Kakashi over for supper. He talked about everything and nothing, filling the silence of the vast field, and Kakashi had let the softness of his sensei’s voice wash over him. The very presence of his sensei and the warmth of blonde man’s hand on his head had anchored him, bringing back from the darkness of his mind. When Minato had run out of things to say, they’d stood in the silence once again. Kakashi hadn’t shown any outward sign, but he had panicked then, trying to cling on to the calm his sensei’s voice had brought him. When he’d failed, he’d leaned closer into Minato-sensei’s side, breathing in the soft scent of trees and Kushina and home, trying to calm his heart and commit the smell to memory.

Before they left, Minato-sensei had raised his left hand to the name engraved on the stone, _Sakumo Hatake_ , and murmured, “It wasn’t your fault. I believe you did the right thing,” and Kakashi had broken down for the second time in his life.


End file.
